On a Wednesday of this year's sunny August, at the tail end of the morning rush hour, I leave the home in Scarborough to start the trip of the Waterfront Trail. I have decided to first use the GO Train, Toronto's commuter train system, to get me away from the urban landscape that I am already familiar with. Also, today's goal, the city of Cobourg, will be a longer distance to cycle than might be wise - I am no spring chicken any more. Thus the use of the train.

   I have never taken the bike on the GO system but I hear I'll be welcome as long as one travels not WITH the rush our traffic. So, I cycle down to Guildwood station, on Kingston Road and Eglinton.

   In my eagerness not to be late, I am an hour early and have just missed the previous train (Doh!). What else to do but kill a bit of time at a Tim Horton's nearby - life is not bad after all. Later, ten minutes before the appointed departure, I am up at the platform and ready to board (Note: Be careful to ask for the right platform. It's not only GO trains that stop at this station!). A minor muddle here: I have waited to board at the place designated for wheel chairs as I figured a bike is a wheeled chair of sorts. But the conductor waives me further down to the next car and I awkwardly lift the bike up and into the car. It takes a bit of jiggling to get the wide handle bar and bulging panniers through the door but I manage.

   There's enough room to stay near the entrance and I enjoy the view out the lake as we glide east along the lake shore. I am getting off at the second-last station, in Whitby, because I am curious to see how the Waterfront Trail looks in this industrial area.

	Whitby waterfront park		Whitby Harbour
		Near Thickson Rd

   After getting off in Whitby, I fill up the water bottles in the train station - it's a warm day and I will get thirsty. From there, Brock Street leads straight south to the well kept park at the lake. Folks do the same thing as I do: moving through the pretty nature area - on bikes, roller blades and of course on foot. People like their water front.

   The industrial areas with factories and even a sewage plant are to the left and I have no trouble ignoring it all. When you cycle, you focus on the trail surface in front of you and keep pretty much control over what else you want to see. If the wind was from the north, maybe I would feel differently, maybe. Oshawa has a small port, and shows a somewhat decrepit image, a rusty wire fence around with much abandoned machinery is apparent. A bit of a surprise is a large ship in the basin that is in the process of turning slowly. And immediately beside the water's edge is a beach where folks gather for a game of volley ball.

   The road next leads to a pleasantly located industrial park, with General Motors Head Quarters building defining the place. In spite of GM's current state of trouble, the sales folks have put up cheery airs with the three showy vehicles that are displayed at the main entrance.

Oshawa Harbour

GM Headquarters

   I enter Darlington Provincial Park through its back door and keep searching for the continuation of the Waterfront Trail because the signs have disappeared and it's not obvious which ones of the upcoming turns I have to take. I stop a park employee to ask for directions which he cheerfully gives. Then I mention the missing signage in "his" park, and - "Bingo", I have moved my misery onto him. Not fair, but maybe he'll mention it and get it fixed. The exit from the park is through its main gate, by the way, in case you will travel the same route.

   I am on the service road that parallels Highway 401, with the expanse of Darlington Nuclear Plant to the right. The guide mentions that tours are being offered, and I expectantly cycle down the long road to the visitors building. Even though there are a handful of employees present, it becomes obvious that no tours are offered any more (since 9/11, I am told). Also, the exhibits are somewhat stale. Too bad, since I would have liked to hear a bit more about Canada's nuclear prowess. But maybe the state of the Information Centre is not unlike the state of our nuclear technology...

   So, I pedal further east along the 401, past powerlines and fields to stop at the Fifth Wheel restaurant for lunch. Service is efficient and not unfriendly, but the food is disappointingly typical truck stop hash. If it wasn't for the friendly woman at the gas pump that offered to keep an eye on my bike and gear, I'd regret having stopped here.

Left: Service Road beside 401   Right: Darlington Nuclear Station

Trail east of the power plant

   The Waterfront Trail now follows small paths and crosses interesting wetlands. It's obvious nature-loving people had a hand in shaping the trail. There are a number of new communities along the path - and there ill be more as I travel on my trip. There are bird houses, benches, paths and other "play things"; the older folks have the will and the means to give nature its due. It's too bad that some of the communities appear somewhat aloof rather than welcoming. The Wilmot Creek community even labels itself as "gated". What are they afraid of - can't they solve potential problems in more welcoming ways...?

Near Bowmanville and Wilmot Creek

Lakefront development near Newcastle

   Now I pass through a countryside as an Ontario picture book: fields, farms, flowers, and hamlets, some of them calling themselves proudly "Port". The town of Port Hope has much of its old character intact, a traditional Main Street, small shops and, on recommendation from a local, the mid-afternoon pleasure of a "cuppa" and baked something at the Dreamer's Cafe. As I chat with some local colourful characters, I realize the picture is complete and I like it!

	Countryside approaching Port Hope

   I arrive in Cobourg in the late afternoon. I have been there once before, visiting by car. Now, as I cycle through its back streets and approach the harbour, I realize it has character and one could even call it affluent. Expensive boats moor at the harbour, new condos rise up a few step behind it, and the downtown groomed beach could have been airlifted from a fancy hotel in the Caribbean. The beach is adjacent to the harbour, and right behind is the town's campground. Even though it's the middle of the week, it is full but they do have a spot in the corner for tents like mine.

   I pay my $30+ for the night, get a key to the washroom and even get good advice where to eat in town. After setting up camp, I stroll up King Street and have dinner at "Corfu", a Greek restaurant. It's a good meal: the salad is crisp and comes with a freshly baked pita, and coffee and home-made baklava turn it all into a "feast". As I happily trundle back to the camp ground, strains of music draw me to the "Oasis", a local watering hole nearby. It's live music (piano and voice), blues as I like it. I order a glass of Burgundy, and then another one, and the evening is perfect.

   Two hours later, I am back at the tent. Even here it gets social as the neighbors, a family from Ottawa, invite me to join their camp fire, and two cyclist from NYC join as well. We chat and discuss the state of the world, and eventually, I turn in to get sleep. Behind the border hedge, folks stroll to the pier and talk loudly, but I am drowsy enough to soon fall asleep.

	Cobourg
		On the campground

   Tomorrow I will get up early and hit the trail early.